The Language of Trees
by Space Toaster
Summary: It's 1993 and Murderface is in love.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Metalocalypse belongs to Brendon Small. Olive is mine. That is all.

The Language of Trees  
By Space Toaster

**Coriander**

_January 1__st__, 1993_

"Hey, Will. Come on in."

Olive pulled the screen door open to let him in. He liked coming over to her house. It was an actual house, not a mobile home made in a factory. It didn't smell like the inside of a nursing home, either.

He followed her upstairs into her room. It was pretty cluttered, like his. She had a poster for Siouxsie and the Banshees, but usually when he came over she was playing Cocteau Twins. He didn't understand a word the lady sang, but it made good background music while they played video games.

"Ready to kick my ass at Galaga?" Olive knelt down by her small TV to turn on the NES.

"Always."

Sometimes it could get distracting. He would watch her out of the corner of his eye during her turn. Her eyes were narrowed slightly in concentration, tongue just barely poking out between her teeth. She had dark hair always tied back in an unraveling knot. He counted at least six earrings in her right ear alone.

"Are you okay? You look a little…spaced out."

He blinked twice, he'd been staring at her.

"…I'm fine." He muttered, picking up the controller for his turn. He shifted slightly and focused on the game to get his mind off the sudden uncomfortable tightness in his pants. He didn't notice her glancing at him.

**  
Mistletoe**

_February 14__th__, 1993_

Florida was experiencing a cold snap, and he didn't have a jacket. The two of them were standing at the bus stop, just to get away for a few hours. Olive thought to bring a jacket, but he was shivering in his hoodie.

"Here," She opened her jacket. "Put your arms around my waist, it'll keep you warm until the bus gets here."

"I'm fine." His teeth were clacking together.

"No you're not. Come on, you'll get sick."

There was no one else at the bus stop, so he relented. He moved so they stood face to face, and slipped his arms inside, wrapping his arms around her. Olive was shorter, so he had to bend down slightly to put his arms around her. He felt her breasts against his chest, making his hard pound, his chin resting on her shoulder. She sucked in a breath as he rested his hands on the small of her back.

"What?" He stiffened, afraid he did something out of line.

"Geez, your hands are cold."

"Sorry," He moved to take his arms from around her waist but she stopped him.

"No no, it's okay…" She said softly, her breath on his ear making him shiver all over again.

Murderface's mouth was very dry. He lifted his chin from her shoulder, looked down at the inch of skin between her neck and the collar of her t-shirt. He leaned down, and pressed his mouth to it, not quite kissing it.

Olive's breath hitched, her arms tightening around him. "Will…"

He pulled back from her neck, too embarrassed to look at her. "Shit, I'm sorry."

"You missed."

There was a smile in her voice, making him straighten up to look at her face. She stood on her toes and pressed her lips against his. Warmth flooded his body, making him wrap his arms around her tighter. She broke off the kiss, breathing heavily, looking up at him. Neither one had anything to say. He stared, touching the side of her neck before leaning down to kiss her this time, however slightly awkward and wet it was. Suddenly bold, one of his hands drifted down to grab her ass, which she playfully slapped away.

They failed to notice they missed the bus.

**Ambrosia **

_March 15__th__, 1993_

Today, William Murderface was sixteen. Birthdays weren't much of a reason for celebration in the Murderface household. Gramma would give him some cheap gift and that would be it. Olive asked him last month what he wanted, but he just shrugged and said he didn't want anything.

The two of them were in Olive's dad's car now. She insisted on taking him out for his birthday, and they just left the theater. The movie itself was crappy, and they were asked to leave because people complained about the two kids making out.

Now they were in an empty parking lot behind the out-of-business roller rink. Olive turned off the car and climbed into the backseat, where Murderface joined her. She wasted little time in climbing into his lap, straddling his hip with her knees. He rested his hands on her rear and gave it a good squeeze when she didn't protest.

Their mouths met, making soft wet smacks whenever they parted for air. His jeans became uncomfortable tight and he knew she could feel why. He looked up at her, and she replied by unzipping his fly. It was silent as he put the rubber on. She tugged off her shorts, but he stopped her at her panties.

"Let me…?"

She nodded, and let him tug the blue cotton down her legs. He couldn't believe how soft her skin was, or how much his hands were shaking. She grabbed one of his hands and laced their fingers, but only to stop her own from trembling. They switched positions and he leaned over her. It was difficult to get comfortable at first, but soon they were rocking back and forth together. She wrapped her arms around his neck, holding on tight and kissing him like she would never see him again. He received soft kisses on his cheeks, nose, forehead, chin, even his eyelids. He grunted, hands running over her legs, up her sides and under her shirt. It wasn't too long before he pushed in one more time, a harder grunt announcing his release. They redressed and curled up together, still breathing heavy and sweating. Olive tilted her head up and kissed him once on the lips.

"Happy birthday, baby."

**  
Amaryllis**

_April 20__th__, 1993_

"God, just look at them! He's all over her."

"What the hell could she see in him?"

"I think it's cute he found somebody."

"I bet she'll be knocked up within the next month."

"Wow, she'll go with anyone I'll bet."

"Way to go, Murderface!"

"Aw, how sweet."

"Get a room!"

It was quite obvious Murderface and Olive were together. There was no other reason why they could be seen making out in the hallway between classes. When the teachers started giving them grief, they relocated to the bleachers by the football field. The smoke from the potheads made them lazy, and often they would cut Biology to kill their munchies with waffle fries. They tried the janitor's closet, but the smell of Lysol was not very romantic. Eventually, the pair returned to the hallways. Let them look. They were all jealous anyway.

**  
Carnation**

_May 28__th__, 1993_

"We just have to wait a couple minutes."

Murderface never saw her like this, and he never wanted to again. She looked like she hadn't been sleeping, and she sounded just…miserable. He put his hand on her shoulder.

"Hey, hey, there's a chance it'll be okay." He was unused to comforting somebody, but he was trying.

Olive rested her hand on his, squeezing weakly. "But what if it's not? How am I going to explain this?"

He pulled her in and held her tight. She pressed her face into his shoulder.

"I don't know." He honestly had no idea what to do or say to make this right. If this turned out to be the way they feared, maybe it wouldn't be as terrible as she thought. It was her decision in the end, though, assuming the results were positive.

The egg timer went off, signaling the end of two minutes. Olive pulled away him from him and shakily picked up the pregnancy test. She sighed and hung her head.

"It's negative."

Murderface exhaled, it felt like he'd been holding his breath the entire time. He pulled her into his arms again, hugging tight. They would have to be a lot more careful next time. He felt terrible for putting her through his, if only he noticed that the condom broke.

"Would you have stayed with me, if I were pregnant?"

The question shocked him. It was his fault she almost got knocked up, and she was worried about him leaving? He couldn't wrap his mind around that. He knelt down, and pressed his lips against her belly through her t-shirt.

"Absolutely." He stood up and wrapped his arms around her.

_"Even though I don't deserve you."_

**  
Forsythia**

_June 24__th__, 1993_

This probably one of the worse days he ever had. He was stuck at home, helping his grandmother with cleaning. It was more like she sat and told him where to scrub. After hours of her nagging, he was finally free. He took a shower to get rid of the Pinesol smell, dressed, and headed out the door without a word to Gramma.

There was only one person who could make him feel better right now. Thankfully, there were no cars in the driveway when he walked up to her house. She answered the door and saw the look on his face.

"Oh, man, you had a bad day." She moved to step back and let him in. He walked in without a word.

"Anything I can- EEP!" She squealed in surprise and delight when he suddenly scooped her up bridal-style and actually carried her upstairs. His arms ached by the time he put her down, but he needed her badly.

"How long are your folks going to be out?" He asked, taking off his shirt and unzipping his jeans.

"Until seven." She replied, looking up at him slightly awed. He'd never been this forward with her before.

"Great." He actually grinned at her, before leaning down to steal a kiss.

The next day, both of them had a noticeable spring in their step.


	2. Chapter 2

The Language of Trees  
By Space Toaster

**Anemone**

_July 8__th__, 1993_

Usually he hated when girls wore perfume. Lots of times it was as if they bathed in it, and he could smell it from five feet away and it gave him a headache. He could only smell Olive whenever he was right next to her. He liked that. It actually smelled nice, too, like peaches and some kind of flower. It calmed him down.

Olive liked to wear his clothes. Many times she would come to school, wearing one of his t-shirts or hoodies. She always felt closer to him that way, when he wasn't around. He didn't wear cologne but he gave off this warm, musky smell that she loved. It made her head swim every time he moved in for a kiss.

She always gave them back in the end, because the scent had faded. He always washed them a week later, when her scent was gone.

**Cactus**

_August 17__th__, 1993_

It was only a few weeks until school started up again, so they decided to go to the beach. The day was cloudy, but it was still warm out. Olive's decision to wear a bikini resulted in a one-sided game of grab-ass. She wished it was a little easier to run on wet sand and that he wasn't so damn fast. The beach was sparsely populated save for the two of them and a few joggers. She shrieked when he grabbed her around the waist. He lost his balance and the two of them collapsed to the sand.

"You okay?" She moved to get off him, but he grabbed her arms.

"I'm fine." He grinned up at her, sand in his frizzy hair. There was a girl in a bikini on top of him, he was surprised he wasn't springing out of his swim trunks right now. She leaned down and kissed him. She loved how he always put a hand on her neck, like she would pull away from him.

"You're prickly." She lifted her head, referring to his unshaven upper lip.

"I'm growin' it out. All the other sophomores are jealous 'cause I have facial hair." He messed with one of the straps on her top, but she lightly slapped his hand away.

"I like it." She took one of his frizzy curls and gently tugged it straight before letting go, letting it spring back into place. "It's like kissing a cactus."

"You like kissing cactuses?" He smirked, his sneaky hands roaming her back to her backside.

"Yes. You're my love cactus-eep!" She yelped when he grabbed her butt with a shit-eating grin on his face. "But I am not your squeak toy!"

"Nope, just your ass." He replied, giving it another squeeze. "Honk-honk!"

"Why I outta…" The fact that she did nothing to stop him didn't make her very convincing. At that point a wave ambushed and thoroughly soaked both of them. He got salt water up his nose and she had seaweed in her hair. He laughed at her, which resulted in a sand fight. Olive's dad was kind of pissed they got sand all over the seats of his car. Thankfully, he never asked why the sand was in the backseat too.

**Lemon**

_September 22nd, 1993_

"That sucked."

"I couldn't agree more."

They were walking away from the homecoming dance. The gym had been decorated with streamers and a disco ball, but there was still a stench of sweaty teens. The refreshments were awful and the music was worse. It was really hot in there too; it was like the chaperones wanted everyone to undress. All of those abstinence speeches in health class, down the drain. They couldn't have left fast enough. The only reason they even went was for a lack of anything better to do on a Thursday night.

"Now what do we do?" Olive could feel his hand on her lower back. They glanced at each other, and knew right away what was on the other's mind. A wicked grin spread over her face as she grabbed his hand and ran for the bushes. They emerged an hour later, grass-stained and sweaty, but happy. These were the memories the two of them would go to when they were lonely, long after they fell out of touch.

**Oleander**

October 10th, 1993

Olive walked in the front door and Stella already didn't like her. This little tart, with her multi-pierced ears and pants so tight they appeared to be painted on. The feeling was mutual, once Olive looked at the obese monstrosity that was Will's grandmother. She could see a faint resemblance between the two of them, and she felt a swell of sympathy for him.

"So, you're Olive." She didn't offer her a seat, so she remained standing.

"Yes, ma'am." Her eyes flicked over to the comatose old man in the arm chair; that must be his grandfather. Stella was feeding him applesauce. It was very quiet except for the television. Olive couldn't help but noticed it smelled like they had a dog but there was no dog.

"It's really nice of you to be paying attention to him." Stella said off-handedly as she wiped her husband's chin.

Olive was focusing on the broken cuckoo clock instead of Will's grandparents, but that comment made her look again. "Uh…pardon?"

"It's nice of you to be spending time with my grandson. I'm surprised someone actually took pity on that worthless lump, but if you want to waste your time, that's your choice." She shrugged her fat shoulders, standing up and waddling past her to take the dish into the kitchen.

"Mrs. Murderface, maybe it's just me," Olive turned around, following her across the teeny hallway that separated the kitchen and living room. "But it sounds like you think I'm dating Will because I feel sorry for him."

"Why else would you?" Stella asked. "I can't think of any other reason why anyone would want to be around the little shit."

The whole time she spoke, Olive was biting the inside of her lower lip. Her nails bit into her palm, trying to stay calm. She was trying to make a good impression here. The old bat however had managed to strike quite a few nerves. What was taking Will so long? Stella sent him out to get a carton of milk when they showed up.

"I wouldn't be surprised if he bad-mouths me to you all the time. That ungrateful little bastard, after all I do for him…"

That was it. The gloves were coming off.

"Maybe if you treated him like a person he wouldn't."

Stella stopped, facing the sink. She turned around to face her and Olive inwardly cringed. God, the resemblance was so great. The way her eyes narrowed, the eyebrows, the way her jaw set. It was all Will. No wonder he was so repulsed with how he looked.

"What did you say?"

Olive swallowed, feeling her muscles tense as she stood her ground. "You heard me. It's your fault he's the way he is. He bad-mouths you because you treat him like shit."

"How DARE you." Stella hissed, lumbering towards her. "How DARE YOU come into MY house and tell me about how I should raise my grandson! I raised him, put clothes on his back and this how he repays me! I should've put my foot down the moment he mentioned you to me, you little slut!"

"You don't raise someone for rewards!" Olive shouted back, not seeing Will running up the driveway in her peripheral vision. "You raise someone because you genuinely care about them and love them!"

"GET OUT! Get out of my house you slut!" Stella thundered towards her and Olive just barely dodged a meaty hand as she stumbled out the screen door and right into Will.

"What did she do?! Shit, I knew I shouldn't have left you here!" He demanded, putting the gallon of milk he lugged from 7-11 on the grass.

Olive was pacing, clearly trying not to cry. "She just, oh my god, she was saying all this stuff about and insulting you! I couldn't take it, Will, I couldn't!"

"Go to your house, I'll be right over. I gotta talk to Gramma first."

Will stomped up the three steps into the trailer and slammed the screen door. As Olive walked down the driveway, calming down, she heard them yelling, and what sounded like Will being hit. That was the first and only time she set foot in that trailer. He would never tell her what happened afterward that day, but the bruises said enough.

**  
Lavender**

_November 28th, 1993_

He was running really late, and it was raining out. Olive was sitting in the living room, glancing nervously at the clock. She was worried maybe Stella did something to keep him. She was doing that a lot lately, trying to find ways to keep them from getting together. Will would lie that he was going somewhere else and just head over, but she was beginning to catch on.

There was a knock on the door. He was half an hour late, and soaking wet when she let him in.

"There you are, what happened? Are you okay?"

"Yeah, just cold. I got you something." It was only then she noticed the squirming lump in his hoodie. He unzipped it and took out a chubby gray kitten by the scruff. It was a little damp, but unscathed. Olive's jaw dropped.

"I couldn't get you anything for your birthday in August, so…" He shrugged and placed the damp feline in Olive's hands.

"Will…" She shook her head. "You're insane."

"Do you like her? I checked, it's a girl." He was shivering, but other than that he looked quite pleased with himself.

"I love her! But you didn't have to do that for me." She lead him into the bathroom. She put the kitten in the bathtub while she made Will strip out of his wet clothes. She had to keep her hormones in check. Other girls often asked her why she was so attracted to him. In all honesty, she didn't know. She was she, and he was he. That was the only way to explain it. They just fit together.

**  
Sweet Pea**

_December 1__st__, 1994_

She told him in June that they were moving to New Jersey. He wasn't happy of course, but he dealt with it and they went on with life. Now that it was finally time for her to go, he felt sick to his stomach. Olive gave him her future address and phone number.

"Call me, write me, whatever. You don't have to stay 'with' me, but I don't want to fall out of touch with you."

He put his arms around her, and he hated how final this all felt. She lifted her head and they kissed. It was short, but it felt like hours. She pulled away and buried her face in his shoulder, breathing in his scent, his essence, the way he carried himself. Who knew when she would get a chance to do this again?

"I love you." She mumbled into his shirt.

"Love you too." He was trying to will away that gut-wrenching feeling that he wasn't going to see her again.

Now he was walking their car pull away, until it turned a corner and disappeared. He felt hollow. He walked home, he didn't hear whatever his gramma said to him as he trudged past her. The address and phone number was still in his pocket. For a while, they wrote and sometimes called each other. Somehow, they fell out of touch just like she feared.

Years later, Olive would turn on the entertainment news to hear about a new up and coming band, Dethklok. The critics were convinced they were just a fad and would be forgotten by next year. Olive wasn't listening to him, however. She was staring at the band themselves. She never saw them before…but there was something familiar about that bassist.

_"…and William Murderface on bass. The band's manager-"_

Olive's jaw dropped, when it dawned on her. That was the same guy she lost track of years ago, the same guy who she rarely stopped thinking about, even when she dated other guys. That was her Will.


End file.
